


Serving up Support

by SalazarTipton



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tennis, Gen, mentions of magnus' late mother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 07:51:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11755347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalazarTipton/pseuds/SalazarTipton
Summary: They have always been each other’s biggest rival, hardest coach, number one fan, and best doubles partner.





	Serving up Support

**Author's Note:**

  * For [magnusragnor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnusragnor/gifts).



> Elle, babe, dude, my guy, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!! You're awesome and I'm so happy I'm in your life. Hope you enjoy <3
> 
> Special shout out to ceci for being a wonderful person and beta-ing for meeeee <3

“Your toss was too low,” Ragnor tells Magnus in a bored tone. 

 

Magnus turns around with a glare and holds a hand up for Ragnor to toss him a ball from the hopper he’s currently leaning against. Instead of a light toss, he chucks it at Magnus’ head. Magnus volleys it away in a swift movement, glare intensifying. 

 

“Oh, come now. You know you aren’t going to get a serve in if your mind is elsewhere anyway.”

 

“Who says my mind is elsewhere?” Magnus retorts, turning away from Ragnor. 

 

He tosses the ball better this time, bends his knees in a fluid synchronicity as he brings up his racquet behind his head, angled beneath the ball for a textbook kick serve. Unfortunately, when Magnus explodes up to the ball and swings it chips off the frame of his racquet instead of the sweet center, sending the ball high up above them and slightly behind. It bounces onto court three and rolls onto court four. Magnus thinks it’s mocking him. 

 

Ragnor tutts and Magnus puts his racquet out to out. “Don’t,” he sighs.

 

“You going to speed up this process and tell me what’s going on so you can get enough serves  _ in  _ that I can think about going over to return some or what?” Ragnor asks in the same disinterested tone as if he were wrapping a new grip. 

 

Magnus tosses his racquet gently into the hopper and leans on the other side of it, staring up at the minimal clouds whisking on by. He doesn’t notice that Ragnor has walked off until he returns with both their waters and taps Magnus on the arm with his. 

 

“This weekend is my mom’s birthday,” Magnus whispers before taking a swig. 

 

“Thought that might be it,” Ragnor says with a tiny nod paired with a sad smile. “We doing the usual?”

 

Since his mother’s passing, Magnus and Ragnor have spent her birthday (and death day) together. They go to various places she enjoyed and pick out her favorite flowers at a local florist that she used to visit, unless they don’t have what they need--that year, Magnus and Ragnor had snuck into the neighbor's yard and stole some of her yarrow and lilies that were in bloom. 

 

They have a picnic beside her grave, give her the flowers, and tell her about all that’s happened in the past year--the good, the bad, and the indifferent. That night, they go out to wherever Magnus is feeling, whether it be Ragnor’s backyard or a club and dance the night away. 

 

“Yeah, that’d be good.”

 

Ragnor claps a hand on Magnus’ neck and gives it a quick squeeze. 

 

“Go serve,” Magnus orders him. “I want to tear yours apart.”

 

Ragnor rolls his eyes, but walks up to the baseline while pocketing a spare tennis ball all the same. “Please, don’t kid yourself. We both know there’s nothing to critique about  _ my  _ serve.”

 

He toss the ball up and twists his hips away from it as he bends his knees into a crouch. When the ball falls to the right place, Ragnor explodes out and upward, swinging his racquet in a full, fluid motion to meet the ball with the middle on his strings. It zips over the net, up the T with a spin that would have sent it into the body or the backhand of his opponent. 

 

“See? Nothing to critique,” Ragnor jokes with a smile and wink. 

 

Magnus tosses him a ball a little harder than necessary. “I would agree...if it weren’t for that foot fault,” he gets out before laughing. 

 

Ragnor adjusts his strings walking over to the other side and sets up another serve. He tosses the ball, but immediately stops his routine when he notices that it’s too close to him. He sets up again: toss, bend, jump, hit, land. 

 

“No foot fault there,” Ragnor comments. 

 

“But that would have been the easiest down-the-line winner I’ve hit in my life, if I was returning,” Magnus retorts. 

 

This back-and-forth gentle one-uping and critiquing has been their way on the court together since they were kids first learning. They have always been each other’s biggest rival, hardest coach, number one fan, and best doubles partner. 

 

“Maybe you should get over there and put your money where your mouth is,” Ragnor goads him on. “If you call your returns properly for, say, a game's worth of serves, I’ll buy lunch.”

 

“You’re going to regret that, Fell.” 

 

He doesn’t end up regretting it. Magnus knows Ragnor has more serve options than Monfils and Federer combined. He only manages to call two returns correctly, one of which landed in. 

 

When they’ve picked up the balls and are packing their bags, Ragnor just keeps going on about all the places Magnus could take him for lunch--each suggestion more ridiculous than the last--though they both know they’d prefer heading over to Ragnor and making food together. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think in the comments! They mean the world to me (and kudos ain't so bad either <3). 
> 
> Come find me on tumblr: [peachstiles](http://peachstiles.tumblr.com/)


End file.
